Chapter 7 - The Trial of Mason Sterling
Six months later.
The county courthouse was packed to capacity, the gallery overflowing with reporters, legal observers, and curious citizens who had followed the sensational trial of the year.
At the defense table sat Mason Sterling.
He no longer looked like the charming, pristine groom in a tailored navy suit. Six months in high-security remand had taken its toll. He wore a plain gray prison jumpsuit, his dark hair cut short and unstyled, his face gaunt, his eyes hollow and nervous. Beside him sat two public defenders, their tables piled high with folders they barely looked at anymore.
On the witness stand sat Evelyn Sterling.
She was weeping hysterically under the sharp cross-examination of the lead state prosecutor, Sarah Lin standing nearby with her arms crossed.
"Mrs. Sterling," Sarah Lin’s voice boomed through the courtroom, "isn't it true that on the night of November 12th, at 11:45 PM, you received a cell phone call from your son, Mason, lasting four minutes and twelve seconds?"
"I... I don't recall," Evelyn sobbed, dabbing her nose with a soggy tissue.
"Let me refresh your memory," Sarah said smoothly, clicking a remote control.
The courtroom screens lit up with a recorded audio transcript provided by the telecommunications provider under federal subpoena.
Mason’s voice echoed through the speakers, harsh, breathing heavily: "Mom, it's done. She refused to sign. I left her on the old logging road near mile 42."
Evelyn’s voice responded clearly: "Is the baby with her?"
Mason: "Yes. Neither of them is going to make it through the night in this storm. Clean out the apartment in the city before the police start asking questions tomorrow morning."
The gallery exploded into furious murmurs. Several jurors leaned back in their seats, their faces twisted in absolute disgust.
Mason closed his eyes, slumping forward onto the defense table, resting his forehead against the cold wood. His public defender sighed heavily, rubbing his temples, knowing the trial was effectively over.
The judge slammed his gavel down three times. "Order in the court! Silence!"
When the room quieted down, Sarah Lin turned to face the jury. "The defense would have you believe that Mason Sterling suffered a mental breakdown, that he panicked in the storm, that he didn't intend for his wife and nine-day-old child to freeze to death on that mountain. But these tapes, these financial records, and the testimony of forty witnesses prove otherwise. This was not a panic. This was a calculated execution attempt to claim an estate."
Sarah pointed her finger directly at Mason. "He left a mother and a infant in fourteen-below weather to protect his greed. And when that failed, he walked into a cathedral to marry another heiress."
Two hours later, the jury returned with their verdict.
The foreperson stood up, holding a white slip of paper. "On count one, attempted second-degree murder: Guilty. On count two, aggravated child endangerment: Guilty. On count three, grand larceny in the first degree: Guilty. On count four, corporate fraud: Guilty."
As each "Guilty" verdict was read, Mason’s shoulders shook violently. When the judge ordered him to stand for sentencing, Mason could barely keep his feet under him.
"Mason Sterling," Judge Harrison said, looking down from his bench with cold, unyielding eyes. "In my thirty years on the bench, I have rarely seen a display of human depravity as dark as yours. You abandoned your own blood to the elements for profit. It is the judgment of this court that you be remanded to the State Correctional Facility for a period of no less than forty-five years, without the possibility of parole."
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Mason was led away in heavy chains, his feet dragging against the floor, his eyes darting frantically toward the gallery, searching for anyone to look at him with sympathy.
No one did.
